


A Fitting Epitaph

by Heatherlly



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2017-11-11 04:35:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/474570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heatherlly/pseuds/Heatherlly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin realizes that closure is impossible in the face of deception, and that truth can prove to be a redemption for both the living and the dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Title:** A Fitting Epitaph  
 **Category:** Gen (Canon)  
 **Characters/Pairings:** Merlin, Arthur, Gwen, Gwaine, Gaius, Lancelot  
 **Rating/Warnings:** K+  
 **Summary:** Merlin realizes that closure is impossible in the face of deception, and that truth can prove to be a redemption for both the living and the dead.

* * *

#  **\- -o- - Part I - -o- -**

* * *

One unthinking comment, innocently spoken in memory of a beloved friend, shattered the illusion of acceptance that had existed since Arthur's reconciliation with Guinevere, his new wife and queen.

"Lancelot loved roasted boar, even if he wasn't so good at hunting them," Gwaine chuckled fondly. "Remember that time he..."

The hapless knight trailed off with a look of dismay, visibly cringing as the conversation around him screeched to an abrupt halt. Throughout the great hall, which had been filled with the sounds of joyful revelry only moments before, the crowd grew deathly still, holding its breath as it waited for the newly wedded king to react to the painful reminder of his traitorous former friend.

They were not disappointed. Arthur's features twisted, displaying a rapid succession of anger, betrayal, disappointment, and grief. Beside him, Queen Guinevere's eyes lowered in helpless shame, as the knights surrounding the couple cast their gazes about awkwardly, desperately searching for something,  _anything_ , that might relieve the tension.

"I'm sorry, sire, I didn't mean to..." 

"Enough," Arthur whispered, and the quiet word echoed through the silent hall.

The reverberations called out to Merlin like a scream, setting fire to emotions he'd tried to bury deep within himself in a futile attempt to pretend that all was well... that he  _hadn't_ been mourning a friend's tarnished memory since the day he'd lain him to rest. Upon Gwaine's guileless words, however, he could no longer deny his grief, nor the way his heart ached for the king and queen and how much they both still suffered under false pretenses.

 _Lies, so many lies..._  Merlin was sick to death of lies. He couldn't do much to change the necessary deception in his own life, but what of his friends? Who was protected, what harm was prevented, by carrying on with the illusion that Lancelot had been aware of his actions, and that Gwen had acted of her own free will when they'd betrayed the king?

On the contrary, it seemed to Merlin that the hearts of those he loved would never fully heal unless the truth were known. Their pain wouldn't simply fade with time, as Gaius had promised, and the innocent man who lay silent in a watery grave would never be given the chance to redeem himself if Merlin didn't act on his behalf.

Overwhelmed by grief and remorse, the young warlock slipped away from the wedding feast, never noticing the elderly man who politely excused himself and followed in his wake.

 _Enough..._ Merlin's footfalls seemed to pound out the word in frantic repetition as he raced up the stairs and through the long corridors of the palace.  _Enough... I have to make this right._

He threw the chamber door open with a crash, panting heavily as his eyes took in the sight of heavy, unused furniture that was covered by a thick blanket of dust. Agravaine's former quarters now lay empty, silent and untouched since the day they'd been abandoned by their former occupant.

Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees and searched beneath the bed, giving a satisfied grunt as his fingers brushed against the box that had contained the traitor's secrets. He pulled it out into the light, and with a whispered word and a flash of gold, the lock came free.

"Merlin, what are you doing?" hissed a familiar voice behind him.

He jumped, then bit his lip as he braced himself for a confrontation he'd desperately hoped to avoid.

"Nothing, Gaius," he said, trying to affect an innocent expression as he turned to meet the accusing stare he knew all too well. "Just checking for woodworm, that's all."

"Those flimsy excuses might work on Arthur, but they don't fool me, my boy. Now tell me the truth!"

He sighed in surrender. "All right. I can't leave things this way. I can't let Arthur continue to believe that Lancelot and Gwen betrayed him. I can't stand to see his pain, Gaius. He needs to know the truth."

"No," Gaius said firmly. "We've already discussed this. It's too dangerous! Leave it be, and it will heal with time, I promise you. Come now, let's return to the feast before Arthur notices your absence."

"And what about Lancelot?" Merlin asked him quietly. "Gwen might have earned Arthur's forgiveness, but he has no chance to do the same if the truth is never known. He doesn't deserve to be remembered as a traitor, Gaius, you know that."

"It's an unfortunate thing, but there's no changing it now. You'd be risking your own safety if you tried. I think Lancelot would have understood that."

Merlin felt a rush of sudden anger building inside him. "That's not good enough! What use is all this power if I can do nothing to help my friends?"

"You've saved Arthur, many times," Gaius pointed out with an arched eyebrow. "You're living your destiny, Merlin. You mustn't put that at risk for..."

"Arthur isn't the only person I care about!" he shouted in frustration, hating the resentment behind the words, yet unable to control his feelings any longer. He'd had enough.

Suddenly, all the years of helplessness, of suffering and of loss, boiled up inside him, threatening to overflow like a pitcher that couldn't hold another drop of cider. Faces appeared before him then – first was Lancelot, the dear friend he'd had to watch die not once, but  _twice_ , utterly powerless to prevent his demise in either case. Fainter, but still sharply painful when he conjured up the memory, he saw Freya dying in his arms in the wake of sweet, unselfish promises.

He hadn't been able to save her. So much magic,  _useless_ , because he hadn't been able to save her...

And then there was his father, the man who'd shared so much of himself in the short time they'd had together. Merlin had known only a taste of the precious bond that had been denied them both... snatched away not only by death, but by the lifetime they'd been forced to spend apart due to Uther's tyrannical ban on magic.

"No man is worth your tears," Arthur had said, and for a fleeting moment, Merlin had  _hated_  him for the words. _Despised_  him, because the lifeless body he'd held clutched tightly to his chest  _should_ have been the man that mattered most of all, and it had been beyond his power to help him.

Will's face rose before him, too, gentle, honest features twisting in pain as his life had slipped away. And all because Merlin hadn't been able to save him.

He couldn't admit that it had been himself, not Will, who'd used sorcery in Ealdor all those years before. No, he couldn't tell Arthur that Balinor had been his father, a good and honest man who had been persecuted by an unjust king who'd hunted him like a criminal. And he could never reveal that Freya had been only an innocent girl, a victim who'd suffered from a curse that had been beyond her control.

But  _Lancelot_... there might still be a chance to act on his behalf,  _without_ revealing his magic. And if he could do that, maybe it would be some small vindication for them all.

"I'm going to do this, Gaius," he said quietly, with steel in his voice. "There's nothing you can say that will change my mind."

"Merlin, didn't I tell you...?" the older man began to protest.

"You were wrong," he responded in a flat voice, even though it hurt deeply to see the disapproval on the kind, careworn face he knew so well. "I'm sorry, Gaius, but I have to follow my conscience."

"But the risk. You can't..."

"I don't care about the risk," was his determined reply as he turned to his task. "It doesn't matter to me anymore. But if it does to you, you might want to leave so I can get this over with before I'm caught in here."

Gaius's mouth opened and closed several times, before he finally shook his head and reluctantly left the room.


	2. Part II

#  **\- -o- - Part II - -o- -**

* * *

"Ic us bisen hræð tán hwanon," Merlin whispered, holding his hand over the empty slip of parchment he'd found among Agravaine's abandoned possessions. Suddenly, the blank surface began to fill with line after line of Morgana's harsh, yet elegant script.

 _Appropriate,_ he mused sadly to himself, his eyes filling with unbidden tears as he remembered performing the same action on Lancelot's behalf for another reason entirely.

Then again,  _was_  it so different? No, the purpose behind his intervention hadn't changed. It was the deep desire for the world to see Lancelot as he truly was... or as he  _had_  been. Sir Lancelot – faithful, honorable, unselfish, and so very brave.

 _This will make it right,_ he swore to himself as he studied the forged letter in his hands.  _When this is discovered, they'll know the truth._

He pulled out a second sheet of parchment, and then a third, repeating the familiar spell until the pages were filled. Satisfied, he sank back on his heels to check over his handiwork.

* * *

_Agravaine,_

_The spell is complete. I've resurrected Lancelot as a shade, and as we speak, he's on his way to Camelot under the thrall of my command._

_Agravaine, you must remember that this man is merely a shadow of who he once was, and has no memory of his former life. Although I've done my best to fill his head with the necessary information, he is a ghost, a phantom, incapable of human emotion or free will. Therefore, you must guide him, and make sure to intervene on his behalf if anyone becomes suspicious of his motives._

_Do not fail me, Agravaine. I will not see Guinevere seated upon my throne._

_Morgana_

* * *

_My Lady Morgana,_

_The servant girl is proving to be more of a challenge than we expected. It seems she truly loves Arthur, for she reacts to our Lancelot with nothing more than distant politeness._

_I believe the enchantment you have prepared to be a necessary measure, my lady. I will meet you at our appointed time and place, to ensure that it is carried out according to your specifications._

_Your loyal servant,_   
_Agravaine_

* * *

_Lancelot,_

_You've done well in your task. I have no further use for your services, save one. You are to end your life by suicide – a dishonorable end to a dishonorable man. Nothing will pain my dear brother more, save what has already been done._

_Agravaine will provide you with the means by which my instructions should be carried out. See to it without further delay._

_Morgana_

* * *

The cruel words pained Merlin deeply, knowing his version must be close to the truth of what had happened. He had to take a moment to collect himself before tucking the letters away in the box, locking it again with a shaky word. When he reached the doorway, his eyes carefully searched the empty corridor before he turned back and murmured a different incantation.

Wrinkling his nose in disgust as a swarm of large, stinking bugs began to invade the chamber, Merlin let out a chuckle of triumph. He'd done it.

To his immense frustration, it took Arthur nearly three days to comment on the malodorous smell. It was a testament to how wary the other occupants of the palace were to mention Agravaine's name in the king's presence that they said nothing, even as they walked around with a permanent look of revulsion on their faces.

"I'll need you to polish my armor, then scrub the floors and then... what on earth is that awful smell? Have you forgotten to bathe again, Merlin?"

"Sire, I believe the odor is coming from your uncle's former chambers," Merlin said, both nervous and relieved now that the moment had come. "It's stronger outside his door than it is in any other area of the palace."

"Didn't I tell you never to mention him again?"

"You asked! What do you want me to say?"

"Search the castle," Arthur said shortly. "Find and get rid of it, whatever it is. The smell is going to put me off my lunch."

Unable to help himself, Merlin snorted and muttered under his breath. "Of course, sire. Can't see you miss a meal, with the way  _you're_ underfed."

Arthur took a step closer, glaring at him suspiciously. "What did you say?"

Merlin cleared his throat and spoke more loudly. "I said I'll see to it immediately, and that it must be something dead."

"Oh. Yeah, you're probably right."

Merlin had the bugs contained and the box in his possession in under ten minutes. He couldn't present his findings so quickly without arousing suspicion, however, so he idled around the castle, lighting fragrant rushes to chase the last of the odor away. After he'd finished, he stopped by to pay a visit to Gwen.

Queen Guinevere opened the door to her sumptuous chambers, which were separated from Arthur's by a heavy brocade curtain. "Merlin!" she exclaimed, smiling happily as she realized it was her old friend who had come to visit. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"My Queen," he said with a grin, giving a respectful bow.

Gwen rolled her eyes with an exasperated sigh. "Don't be silly. Come in!"

Merlin followed her into the lovely room, reflecting on how much her life had changed since the day he'd met her – a shy, simple serving girl that bore little resemblance to the strong, confident woman she'd become. And yet, the essence of who she was, her sweetness, kind nature and open honesty, were just the same as they'd always been. She'd make a great queen, and a wonderful wife for Arthur.

The thought made him feel warm inside and now more than ever, he knew without a shred of doubt he was doing the right thing.

"What's in the box?"

"Um, I'll tell you in a minute," he said awkwardly, not quite sure how to broach the subject. "Can we sit down?"

Belatedly, he realized it was far from proper protocol for a servant to ask a queen for a seat at her table, as if he were a noble guest who might expect such an honor. Gwen didn't seem to notice, however, and if she did, it was obvious she didn't care. She only smiled, ushering him to the elegantly gilded table that was situated by the window.

"Shall I call for some refreshments?" she said with a mischievous grin. "Perhaps some lovely desserts? Every servant should know what it feels like to be waited on for a change. I'm ashamed to admit I've been enjoying the privilege a little more than I should be."

He looked at her fondly as she poured him a glass of wine. "You've worked hard all your life, Gwen. You deserve to relax and be taken care of, don't you think?"

She leaned closer with a twinkle in her eye. "It's maddening! I don't know what to do with myself! Arthur insists I mustn't lift a finger to take care of the laundry, or cook, or wash the windows and I... I'm bored out of my mind! It's no wonder so many of these royals look so sour, with nothing to do all day but eat and drink while counting the cracks in the walls."

Merlin burst out laughing, a merry sound that was quickly joined by Gwen's helpless giggles.

"R-Remember that one with the red hair?" she barely managed to sputter out. "The one from Mercia who came for a visit during one of the tournaments a couple years ago? What was her name... Lady Alina?"

Merlin affected a pinched, haughty looking expression, which brought on a fresh round of mirth. Gwen let out a loud snort between gales of laughter and then looked abashed, pressing her lips tightly together in a valiant effort to regain composure.

"Forgive me," she said as solemnly as she could manage. "That was undignified."

"Not half as undignified as Lady Alina ordering you to pluck the hair from her upper lip!"

" _Merlin!_ " she gasped in amused surprise. "How did you know about that?"

"B-Because she visited Gaius that night for a remedy, claiming some incompetent serving girl had botched the job so badly that she... she..." he broke off with another howl of laughter.

"What on earth is going on in here?" demanded a suspicious voice from the doorway. They jumped in surprise, turning in their chairs to face a stern looking Arthur.

Gwen wiped all traces of amusement from her face, then stood up to greet her husband. "Merlin just stopped by for a visit. We were sharing some memories."

" _Merlin_  should be busy with his chores. He should know better than to..."

"To spend a little time with an old friend? To make the queen happy?"

Arthur opened and closed his mouth several times, as if he didn't know how to deal with the situation. "Guinevere, I know you're fond of him," he finally told her in a placating voice. "But he has a job to do. He can't just..."

"Stop by in the middle of the day, when he should be off polishing your armor or performing whatever menial tasks you demand of him?"

"Well, yes," he said, looking flustered. "Besides, you know it isn't proper. Not that  _I_  mind if he's a servant, of course, but some people might think..."

"Arthur, you  _married_ a servant. Surely the kingdom isn't going to fall apart if the queen chooses to share a little conversation with one. Besides, there are dozens of pages and serving boys lounging about the castle. Your armor isn't going to rust over if you give Merlin a break every now and again."

"Well," the king faltered in the face of his new wife's stern observations. "He should have asked for permission first. That's all I meant."

"He already  _has_ permission," Gwen countered sweetly, reaching up to wind her arms around his neck. "From me. Didn't you encourage me to speak up, Arthur? Weren't you the one who said I was queen now, and that my wishes should be obeyed without question?"

If Arthur had any further objection, it was melted away by the soft kiss she planted on his jaw. All was serene for a time, until his eyes shifted from her to Merlin, and then to the mysterious box that sat forgotten in an empty chair.

He raised a curious eyebrow. "What's that?"


	3. Part III

#  **\- -o- - Part III - -o- -**

* * *

"Get rid of it," Arthur growled, his voice full of pain and quiet fury. "How  _dare_ you? Didn't I tell you I wanted no more reminders of that... that..."

Gwen laid a restraining hand on his arm. "I'm sure Merlin didn't mean to offend you, Arthur. Maybe we could just take a quick look and see what's inside? What harm can it do?"

"The man  _betrayed_ me, Guinevere," he said coldly, turning away from the box as if he couldn't bear to look upon it. "He was my family and I trusted him and...  _hundreds_  of innocent lives, lost because of his treachery and my failure to recognize what he really was. I told you, Merlin, _take it away!_ "

Although Merlin had some sense of how much Agravaine's betrayal still pained Arthur, this was a twist he hadn't expected. Reluctance, maybe, but outright refusal?

"I only thought... well, we know Agravaine was in league with many of Camelot's enemies, not just Morgana herself. Not all of those enemies are dead. What if there's information inside that could give us an advantage if they decide to attack the kingdom again? Wouldn't you want to know?"

"Petitioning for a seat on the council, Merlin?" the king retorted sourly. "Why don't you go back to picking herbs, or spending time at the tavern, or whatever it is you do with your time? I hardly think I need you to advise me on state affairs."

Even as he pressed his lips tightly together, stung by the words, Merlin could see the reluctant acceptance beginning to build in Arthur's eyes. He knew it was a fair point, even if he'd never allow himself to admit it.

"All right, I'll open it to put your mind at ease. Probably just a bunch of socks or something, but I'll open it. Where's the key?"

Merlin cringed, suddenly realizing there was one important detail he hadn't thought of. It was easy to forget things like that when opening a lock took him no more effort than a wave of his fingers.

"I... there isn't a key, but the lock did feel a little loose when I was carrying it up here. Let me see."

He picked up the box from the table and turned away, pretending to fiddle with the lock. Breathing the magical words, softer than a whisper, he smiled to himself as he felt the latch come free.

"Did you say something, Merlin?" Gwen asked him kindly. "Do you need help?"

"It  _does_  feel loose, but I can't quite seem to..."

"Give it to me," Arthur interjected, taking the box from his hands and easily lifting the lid. He arched a skeptical eyebrow at his servant. "Really, Merlin, I've seen kittens who could best you for strength."

Merlin ignored the insult as he anxiously watched him rifle through the contents of the box.

"Oh, look at this – book on sorcery. That's nice. Stolen records, a vial of poison, a dagger, a silver bracelet?" One by one, he carelessly tossed the items aside. "I knew there'd be nothing useful in here, just a whole lot of..."

Merlin's breath caught in his throat as Arthur pulled the forged letters free, holding them up to the light. Without a word, the king sank down into the nearest chair and began to read, a lightning quick succession of agony, grief, shame, and horror playing across his features as he did so.

"Arthur?" Gwen said quietly, both fear and concern evident in her voice. "What is it?"

Speechless, he slowly shook his head; with the letters clenched tightly in one fist, he rose and left the chamber.

"Should we go after him?"

"No," Merlin said firmly. "Believe me, I've seen him like this. He needs to be alone until he comes to terms with whatever is in those letters.

"But it must have been something terrible for him to look like that. What if he needs our help?"

"He'll let us know, Gwen. You have to trust him."

For nearly two hours, the pair of friends sat in silence as they waited for the most important person in their life to reappear. At long last, he did so, entering the room with sagging shoulders and eyes that were suspiciously red.

"Merlin, I need to speak with Guinevere. Can you please leave us? Wait outside, I'd like to talk to you as well when I'm done."

It was impossible to hear what was being said from the other side of the thick wooden door. Nonetheless, Merlin could easily guess as to the direction of the conversation, as he heard tones of bewilderment, then relieved sobbing accompanied by Arthur's soft murmurs of comfort.

When the king finally emerged, he somehow managed to look both deeply grieved, yet more at peace than he had in years. "The queen needs to rest for now," he said, his voice tender as he cast one more look into the room before closing the door. "Come with me to my chamber."

Merlin listened patiently as Arthur read the contents of the letters, feigning confusion, bewilderment, and anger that really weren't so hard to fake at all, as he watched a great deal of guilt and shame play across the other man's features.

"So it wasn't really Lancelot?" he questioned innocently, relieved to notice that Arthur no longer cringed at the name.

"No, Merlin. I should've known our Lancelot would've never done such a thing. I should've realized that he... that neither of them... how could I have been so blind, Merlin? How?"

"It sounds like Morgana wove a powerful deception. We were all fooled, Arthur. We wanted him back so much, and she took advantage of our grief, our love for a friend. We can't fault ourselves for that."

"How can we leave it like this? I can spend a lifetime making it up to Guinevere, and I intend to, but what about Lancelot? An innocent, honorable man who sacrificed his life for us all, and everyone in Camelot knows him as a traitor. How can I ever make amends for that?"

"Lancelot would never blame you," Merlin said sadly. "If he were here, you would've earned his forgiveness before you even thought to ask for it."

Arthur rose from his seat on the bed and began to pace restlessly. "You're right, Merlin. He didn't... he never asked for anything, did he? He loved us all selflessly, and with his whole heart, whether we deserved it or not."

"Yes, he did."

"Where did you bury him?" Arthur asked quietly, pausing to stare out the window with unseeing eyes. "Was it a fitting tribute?"

Merlin fought the urge to weep as he pictured Lancelot's face – filled with gentle resignation as he'd closed his eyes for the final time. "Not as fitting as he deserved, but I did the best I could."

"Tomorrow you will take me there."

**\- -o- -**

The following morning dawned with a warm breath of spring; not a single cloud marred the brilliant blue sky on the day Sir Lancelot would finally be laid to rest in truth. The quiet procession wound its way down to the lake, carrying flowers, fragrant boughs of fresh greenery, and other small tokens meant to offer tribute to the man they'd all known and loved.

With Guinevere at his side, Arthur led the way. Close on his heels was Merlin, and then the knights, followed by a random collection of Camelot's citizens whose lives had all been touched by Lancelot in one way or another.

Arthur came to a standstill on the shores of the lake and stared out across the water, unashamed of the tears that flowed freely down his cheeks. As Merlin stood quietly behind him, his heart whispering its own silent goodbyes, he saw him lean over to whisper something in Gwen's ear.

"Lancelot loved you until the very end," the words floated back to him on the breeze, carrying not even a hint of jealousy or suspicion. "It was _you_ more than any of us who brought out the goodness in him."

"I know, Arthur, and I loved him too. I always have, and I always will. But it isn't... we never..."

"Enough, Guinevere," Arthur interjected, sliding a comforting arm around her shoulders. "The time for that has passed. I know the truth now, and I accept that you meant a great deal to each other… Just as I understand it was never a betrayal to me. Please don't be afraid to grieve for him."

Moments later, the king addressed the crowd that had gathered to mourn Sir Lancelot. Merlin would never remember exactly what he'd said , but he would  _always_ know that the words had been the right ones... words of honor, love, loyalty, and sacrifice.

Someday, he'd find a way to give them  _all_ proper tribute, to tell the world who they'd really been. Freya, his father, Will, and all of the nameless faces beyond those he'd loved himself – innocent people who'd suffered due to the persecution of magic, or through the abuse of its power.

But for now, at least he'd found a way to speak for Lancelot, the devoted friend who had so desperately needed a voice.

And for the moment, that was enough.


End file.
